


Small Favours

by GeneralRADIX



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantasy Intersex, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralRADIX/pseuds/GeneralRADIX
Summary: Well, that's one way to get someone to loosen up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I've got this [mer-AU](http://general-radix.tumblr.com/tagged/mer-AU) I do things with (not all of them SFW).

He'd never given it much thought after moving in, but the lights both inside and out this apartment complex were really damn annoying. The overhead that illuminated the parking lot forever teetered on the edge of blowing out, and those in the main hallway gave off a constant buzz that underscored their sickly, artificial greenish tint. Must've been a stroke of luck that the bulbs in his apartment burned out just before he arrived, giving him an excuse to change them out for something less eye-stabbing.

Vince locked down his bike, took a moment to brush off the sand that had somehow gotten onto his jacket, and trudged inside. Nobody milling about in the main hall tonight; fine by him. Once he'd entered his apartment, he dropped his backpack onto the recliner, pulled off his sneakers, and made his way to the bedroom.

If he'd been a little less worn-out, Vince might've been surprised to find Durandal curled up on the mattress instead of his usual spot in or near the tub, reading some cheesy old piece of vampire fiction that Vince had received from an ex-neighbor and couldn't last ten pages into. As it was, Durandal was taking up space that Vince would rather be occupying himself.

Durandal's spines twitched subtly and he looked up. “About time you came back; I was starting to think I'd be stuck up here.”

“Yeah, yeah. Scoot over.”

With some awkwardness, Durandal crawled away from his spot, careful to keep his spines pointed away; no sooner was he sitting on the floor than Vince dropped onto the mattress, flat on his back.

After a minute of trying to relax—more like deflate—Vince felt Durandal lie back down next to him and pull up close, their faces resting about an inch apart. “So, I take it that this job was somewhat more frustrating than usual.”

“ _Jesus_.” Vince ran a hand through his perpetually-messy hair. “I think this guy was a closet Luddite. Didn't understand the basics of this computer he'd ostensibly owned for two years and kept interfering with my attempts to fix it. You know—what he called me to do in the first place.” 

And his current situation didn't allow him to put clients on a blacklist. God help him if that guy called again; the police would be called to a scene involving a copy of 'Mac OS X for Dummies' and contraptions that prohibited movement.

Vince pointed to where he thought Durandal might've left that book. “Are you gettin' any enjoyment out of that, dude? I couldn't.”

“It's fine for what it is, I guess,” Durandal said. “I haven't got much to compare it to; merfolk have their own monsters to write about.”

He began idly fiddling with one of the hood drawstrings of Vince's jacket, wrapping and unwrapping it around one finger, and not offering any more points of conversation. Vince took advantage of the silence to close his eyes and wait for sleep to take him somewhere without obstinate, meddling imbeciles who were unsafe at any speed to operate computers.

...at least, that was the plan; ten minutes in, and he was still awake for some reason. Adjusting the position of his neck didn't help, neither did another ten minutes; he groaned and, out of the corner of one eye, noticed Durandal's antennae-spines twitch.

“Something wrong?”

“Can't sleep,” Vince muttered. “Too wound up, maybe.”

It took about five seconds for Durandal to reply with, “I've got an idea,” and begin crawling onto the mattress.

“Yeah?”

A pause. “Which I can't test out if you don't take your pants off.”

Vince started and sat as far upright as he could manage; Durandal lay draped over his right leg, tail swaying in the air expectantly. 

“Yannow, dude, I don't have the energy to get intimate tonight...”

Durandal let out an annoyed huff. “I figured as much; that's why we're doing something different. Now start disrobing.”

Suppressing the urge to grumble about pushy wannabe-doms, Vince did as he was told—albeit with one leg still in his jeans and boxers, in case they got a late-night visitor—and laid back down. Not that he usually thought about matters like this in such terms, but a hand job didn't sound so bad right now.

He felt Durandal settle in between his legs, laying one hand over his pelvis and rubbing the thumb of the other across the head of his dick; Vince kept his mouth clamped shut so as not to accidentally make any embarrassing noises as the thing hardened far too slowly. Was that from fatigue, or just Durandal taking his sweet ti--

Vince jolted and thrust the back of his head into the pillow. _That_ wasn't a hand.

He sucked in a breath as Durandal's tongue continued gliding up the shaft at a snail's pace, eventually passing over a particularly sensitive spot on its way to the head, causing Vince to shudder again. As soon as Durandal pulled away, Vince sputtered, “D-dude.”

“Yes?” 

“You've got fangs,” he pointed out. “And you're putting them near--”

Durandal poked him in the thigh. “I've also got venomous spines, and that didn't stop you from touching me at all,” he countered. “Just relax.”

'Just relax,' he said, when the nearest clinic was thirty minutes away. Vince braced himself and laid a forearm across his upper face; no sudden movements and he'd be fine. Maybe.

Durandal moved back in and worked a different side of the shaft, drawing things out just as much as before; this time he lingered over the tip, working his tongue across the head before taking it in his mouth—just a little bit, not enough for his fangs to touch. And not for lack of trying, but it was getting increasingly difficult for Vince to keep his breathing steady, with Durandal lightly sucking the head and massaging the base of the shaft with one hand. He gripped the sheets to see if it would help; as if in response, his boyfriend went in deeper.

A fang brushed against Vince's skin and his stomach tensed, pulling even tighter when it began poking him. Only for a second, mercifully, as Durandal shifted his jaw around to take the pressure off; still, there wasn't much he could do to keep the other fang from rubbing against the shaft as he began to really work it, just try to maneuver it away momentarily every time he heard a hitch in Vince's breath.

Vince's legs were trembling now; he considered wrapping them around Durandal's torso, but there'd be no way to do that without disturbing his spines, so Vince just dug them into the mattress. Some pelvic muscles twinged in ways he didn't intend and he tried to keep that still as well, without much success; Durandal, for his part, didn't make any noises indicating discomfort. Sounded like a moan, actually.

Again, one of Durandal's fangs came within a hair's breadth of poking too hard, distracting Vince from the less worrisome aspects of the experience; it got moved back and he did his best to relax—as much as he could with his heart thrumming in his chest and throat. And it was getting too hot to keep his jacket on, but he couldn't remove it lying down—pulling his shirt up to his clavicle served as a good enough compromise. When he found that he couldn't reach Durandal's shoulder, he gently placed his hand on top of the lionfish's head, mindful of the tiny spines there—he didn't know why he was doing that, but it was what his brain was telling him to do in between the floods of endorphins, and Durandal wasn't batting his hand away.

He sensed another scrape and his hand twitched, but it didn't set off his fear reflex this time; Durandal licked in just the right way to force a gasp out of Vince and he couldn't stop, especially not with Durandal reaching up to shakily carve a line through his abdominal muscles—upwards once, then halfway down before changing course and grasping at Vince's hoodie, like he'd fall off the mattress if he didn't.

Couldn't keep this up forever unless he wanted to wake up the next morning to a very sore and grumpy merman, but _goddamn_ , was he going to remember this for a long time. All those flexions and little kicks, his boyfriend's tongue finding all the delicate areas with minimum effort...

“C'mon, please,” Vince managed, his voice faint. “Just a—little more...”

Something brushed against his slit and he finally came, back arching a good two inches off of the mattress; below him, Durandal gagged briefly, swallowed everything down, and drew away gasping for air.

Vince removed his arm from his face and let it flop limply onto his chest; there he lay, breathing in as much of the chilly vent-filtered air as possible. Idly, he shifted one leg to rest against Durandal's tail, rubbing around a bit to make sure he wasn't about to press it against a spine, and—why was Durandal still trembling?..

“V-Vince?”

How the muscles in his arms could've turned to jelly when he'd barely used them, Vince didn't know; with far more effort than necessary, he lethargically sat up and looked down at Durandal, who looked back up at him, face flushed and two fingers clumsily stroking the inside of his yonic region.

Despite knowing what a bad idea that was, Vince laughed. “Got more than you bargained for, huh?”

Durandal waved a couple of spines indignantly. “Just help me take care of it!”

Carefully, Vince gathered Durandal into his lap, pulled up his shirt so that Durandal could lean against his bare chest, and got to work on his boyfriend's other set. Just like the first time they'd gotten physical in this manner, he began with gentle strokes that gradually quickened and intensified, roughly in time to Durandal's moans and whimpers, with the other hand trailing across his hips and abdomen in search of sensitive spots. Each time Vince found one, he got a jolt of movement in response; before long, Durandal had become a panting, quivering mess.

While he couldn't put his finger on exactly why yet, there was something quite satisfying about helping such an arrogant, sarcastic merman come apart—especially with the needy way he cried out when he climaxed.

Vince gave him a few minutes to catch his breath, silently enjoying the way Durandal wilted in his arms, and closed his heavy eyelids for a moment. Next thing he knew, he was lying on the mattress with Durandal casting him an annoyed glare.

“You're supposed to put me down first,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, dude...” 

Sleep threatened to overtake him again, but neither of them had cleaned up yet. Vince staggered up on legs that could barely support his weight, trudged to the bathroom, winced at the sharpness of the cold water against his warm hands, and returned with some wet washcloths.

After Durandal took one, he said to Vince, “That didn't happen, by the way.”

“What didn't? That blowjob you gave me?”

Man, that did not sound nearly as awkward in his head.

“No, that span of time in between then and now that doesn't exist. You saw nothing.”

Vince snorted. “ _I_ can lie better than that, dude.”

He narrowly dodged a thwack to the leg and laid down, motioning for Durandal to join him; once Durandal had gotten comfortable in his arms—albeit not without an irritated sigh—he murmured, “In case you're wondering...I did that because I wanted to.”

“Figured as much.” Vince tried to adjust the pillow with his neck and shoulders. “Any reason you're telling me that?”  
He didn't get an answer right away. “Just a preventative measure against whatever questions you might've had for me in the morning.”

Fair enough, Vince supposed, and within a few minutes, he lost track of the rest of the night.


End file.
